


Old Wounds

by KuzAnn, ViperOfGrand



Category: League of Legends
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-06
Updated: 2014-07-03
Packaged: 2018-02-03 15:15:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1749170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KuzAnn/pseuds/KuzAnn, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ViperOfGrand/pseuds/ViperOfGrand
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A fight between Twisted Fate and Graves leads the summoners of the League to question what separated the two in the first place, and High Counciler Kolminye WILL have answers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The air was sour and thick with fear.  It made it hard for Graves to drag each breath into his lungs, but he did it, and kept running as the source of it sought him out.  Cold sweat pricked his forehead and trickled down his face and neck, and he wiped it from his eyes with one gloved hand while the other kept hold on his trademark shotgun, barely missing a stride as he continued on.

Lucky.  He was lucky to get away.  The enemy pinned him down early in that skirmish because his summoner became careless, and he just barely made it out.  It would be an easy kill if they caught him now, and his summoner urged him on through the twisting corridors of trees, toward the safety of his team's deeper defenses.  Short-cut brown hair was slick with the same fear-chilled sweat that irritated his face, made his beard one big itch.  He would be glad to get away from that wretched scarecrow, if only to be free of the annoying effects of its magic.

Graves's summoner was still fidgety, which probably meant he was still in for a fight even now.  The effects of the fear were fading now, at least.  He cleared the last patch of tall grass to find—

That Fiddlesticks was right there waiting for him.

Predator: The immediate thought that took hold of his brain and sent Graves scampering to and fro, clawing at the dirt from the mere presence of the animate scarecrow. His mind was too overloaded to work out what to do next, and his body barely able to carry out the frantic commands it _did_ manage to send.  Somewhere beyond the terror, in the part of his mind that was preserved by the summoners’ magic for sanity’s sake, Graves could feel the last of his vitality slipping away.   _‘Damn,’_ so he wouldn’t be getting away after all.  It was so annoying to be dead.

The cascading slap of shuffling cards rattled out from behind Fiddlesticks before the Harbinger could finish off his prey.  Fiddlesticks stopped dead as a golden card exploded across his back, his onslaught brought to a screeching halt by the interruption.  Even though the scarecrow realized what would come next, his impossible smile never wavered even once through the temporary stupor that afflicted him.  Graves used the opportunity to pull himself free of the remaining fear and opened fire on the wretched phantasm, shattering its wooden frame and shredding the burlap body that encased him.  

Fiddlesticks’s string and stick joints creaked with disappointment as the vigor of animation left his body bit by bit.  A single card finished him off, causing him to drop to the ground like a distorted marionette with its strings cut.

Graves could hear his summoner snapping at his comrade as he glared at the source of his rescue.

For some moronic reason the Bilgewater team had decided that it would be a good idea to put Twisted Fate and Graves on the same side, despite the obvious problems that would result from it. Their reasoning was simple, if other sworn enemies could cooperate and fight side by side, how could these two not? The match had been going well up to this point, though Graves couldn’t really bring himself to care about the shipping rights that Bilgewater was fighting Noxus for.  He looked up in time to spot that Twisted Fate giving him a mocking tip of the hat and a smirk as he sauntered past.

“Somethin’ amusin’ ya, Fate?” Graves growled, his temper already flaring.

Twisted Fate turned, but didn’t bother to look Graves in the eye; _that_ was an honor only for people he actually took seriously.  “Ah nothin’ much, just the look on yer face when Fiddle was on ya.” The smirk widened into a malicious grin as Twisted Fate heeded his summoner’s urgings. And as he started to make his way back to the safety of their turret he added, “Just that every time y’make that expression, it reminds me of the same one y’wore when you got hauled off to Priggs’s prison.”

“Heh...that’s real funny, cause I _also_ remember an expression on yer face.” Graves got to his feet, stomped over to Fate, grabbed his shoulder and spun the Card Master around. He then belted Fate’s chin with a strong right hook and hollered, “Gettin’ yer ass kicked without me around to back y’up! I remember that look damn well!”

The Card Master staggered from the blow and ducked out of reach, an infuriating smirk still firmly in place despite the blow.  He dabbed at the thin line of blood that flowed from the corner of his mouth as he chuckled.

 _Guys?_ their summoners asked in a futile attempt to regain their attention.

“Now what’s so damn funny?”

“You really haven’t changed much over the years have you, _Malcolm?_ ” Twisted Fate sneered.

“Naw, I haven't. That's what she liked about me, but you? Heh, soon as you were done with her, you went after that blue bitch.”

Twisted Fate’s head snapped up, giving Graves a good look at his eyes.  The anger was clearly there—Graves had broken through Twisted Fate’s wall of indifference and actually provoked an honest reaction.  

“Aw, lookit that...” Graves bellowed a mocking laugh. “Looks like y’got yer panties all twisted up! Now, are they hers, or are they-”

Graves didn’t have the chance to finish his insult as Twisted Fate lunged at him, covering the distance between them with surprising speed as he took a swing at the Outlaw.  The blow hit Graves full in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him, but he managed to grab Twisted Fate’s forearm before the Card Master could move beyond his reach again.

_Graves! Fate! Listen! Get moving! Y-_

Graves pulled Fate in close to him and aimed a sturdy fist at the Card Master’s jaw. Fate was an old card to this fighting style, however. He allowed the blow to connect, and instead of fighting against it he let it slip past him. Graves was wide open now.  He didn’t need luck to win this fight.

Fate threw his arm down, breaking Graves’ hold on him as he tightened his own grip on the Outlaw’s arm. He quickly darted behind Graves, locking the arm he had managed to grab and started to fire rapid hammer punches roughly where the Outlaw’s kidneys roughly were. Fate’s success was noted by the bellows of pain that came from Graves.

Graves responded by rearing his own head back and slamming the back of his skull against Fate’s forehead. He always had a harder head than the Card Master, and this proved true as Fate reeled back from the blow.

That was when, despite the ringing in their ears, they noticed something scrambling to be heard in each of their heads. The fight stopped for a brief moment as the pair tried to figure out what it was. It sounded like Summoners were screaming about something. They yelled in unison, “What?! What is it?!”

_BEHIND YOU, YOU ID-_

It was too late: A knife firmly embedded itself in Fate’s forehead, just scant millimeters from instant death. Graves blinked, and burst out laughing. By the time he got out one, “Haw!” another knife followed, which bounced off of the Card Master’s skull and cut through the Outlaw’s scalp. The two released one another, each grabbing their head or face in pain.

An irritated, yet sultry, voice spoke up, “Oh no, no no. Don’t stop hugging. It was just getting good.”

A blur of scarlet darted in front of them. She was fast, but the daggers she threw were faster. The blades flew out at ridiculous speeds, making Twisted Fate and Graves into makeshift pincushions. Despite her seemingly random trajectory, she was sure to aim for the tendons in their legs, their arms, and all non-lethal areas in their chests. Both Fate and Graves had done card counting in their lifetime, and they could easily count more than twenty knives in each of them.

 _Stop fooling around, Katarina,_ her summoner chimed in.

“I’m not. They’ll die... Eventually,” she flicked a blade up and down carelessly with grace that would have been admirable if it were not for the sadistic light in her eyes.

_Then finish up quick.  Before the rest of their team arrives._

“Just a little longer? I was the one having to deal with the card thrower.”

_No.  They may yet escape if you delay, so get to it._

“I cut their tendons. Unless they have mages at their... Oh right,” she said with a mockery-filled laugh. “ Fine.”

A blade seemed to appear out of thin air in each hand, and she flitted over to the two of them like some terrifying bird of prey. With a single twirl she slashed both of the staggering mens’ throats. Katarina walked away, a slight spring in her step as her long scarlet hair swung to and fro with her stride. She smoothed some loose strands of hair from her face, showing a scarred left eye. At exactly five steps she smiled and looked back at the Card Master and Outlaw. They fell to the ground at the same time, which was followed by a loud feminine voice calling out, **“Double Kill!”**

“Damn right it’s a double kill.”

Back in the halls of the Institute, the Bilgewater summoners clamoured for a premature end to the match, stating that rule violations on the part of the champions made it null and void.  The senior summoners came to a conclusion within a few minutes: the match was to be cancelled and rescheduled for a later date, hopefully one that Miss Fortune would be well enough to participate on.

**“Match cancelled due to rule violation.  All champions prepare to be removed from the Rift at once.”**

Katarina sighed, “I knew it was too good to be true.”

_A shame they can’t control their champions._

It did not have to take a mind link for Katarina to sense the relief that flooded from her summoner, despite his attempt at hiding it with false bravado. Noxus had not been performing all that well during the match, and her summoner was partly to blame.  She would have to ensure that he did not show up for the rematch.

* * *

“Have either of you been successful?”

“No,” chorused the two summoners who stood before the Council of Equity.

High Councilor Kolminye leaned forward in her ornate chair so as to see the pair of them better.  “Did you get _anything_ out of Fate?” she addressed this to the woman summoner who stood on the right.

“Not much at all.  I even let him take me out to dinner and all he did was dance around the issue.  Never got a straight answer,” the summoner replied, the irritation that edged her voice hinting at the aggravating evening she had experienced the previous night.  “Whatever he’s hiding he guards very well.”

“And you,” Kolminye addressed the other summoner now.  “Did you get anything out of Graves?”

“It started with me offering him to buy a drink. I did, and...”

“And?”

“Well, he said that I have until he finished the drink to ask him what I wanted.”

“So? What was the problem?”

“The problem was I had to buy him ten more drinks to give me time to ask him my questions. By the time I asked, he was drunk and angry. In regards to Twisted Fate, he said, and I quote...” The summoner took out a notepad, cleared his throat and read aloud, “‘The day I make up with Fate is the day that Cho’Gath puts on a tuxedo, wears a top hat, a monacle, sips daintily from teacups, and has a genuine gentlemanly accent.’ This was followed by him prodding my groin with his shotgun.”

“Hm.” Kolminye leaned back in her chair as she processed this news.  “We cannot afford to have our champions throwing matches like this.”

“I don’t understand...” The Summoner scratched the side of his head, “How is this possible? We have Morgana and Kayle in the League and they’ve never caused trouble during a match like this. That’s the real question here, what is it between these two that causes them to be able to override the mind link so...  Well, so easily?”

“We will have to find out, won’t we?” Kolminye’s voice held a nearly-hidden edge that made the two investigators flinch.  It never did good to get on her bad side.

* * *

 

Graves scowled as he tried to see beyond the pitch black that surrounded him.  Where in the hell had that summoner gone?  He was right there in front of him when they entered the room and then suddenly everything went dark.  It was starting to test his patience, people forcing him to stand here and waste his valuable time.  Who did they think they were, anyway?

The lights flicked on just a few moments later and Graves shielded his eyes from the sudden brilliance, pain flaring in the pits of his eye sockets from how much time he’d been in the dark.  

“Fancy meetin’ you here, _Malcolm_ ,” Graves lowered his hand to find none other than Twisted Fate standing next to him inside a single pale spotlight.  The rest of the room was still shrouded in darkness, but the two could now sense that there were others watching them.

“What the hell?” Graves snarled, leveling a glare at Twisted Fate before casting his venom-filled gaze around the darkened room. “Y’got an angle here? What’s th’game, Fate?”

“Got led here by some summoner, don’t have a clue on what this’s about,” Twisted Fate sounded bored, but Graves could sense that it was an act this time.  He knew the Card Master too well.  Whatever was going on, it had him on edge.

“So nice to see the two of you here,” a woman’s deep, smooth voice echoed through the chamber as Kolminye appeared, seated behind a long table with two other summoners.  “And you haven’t even tried to kill each other yet, _very good_.”

“With all due respect, ma’am...” Graves shifted his stance slightly. He crossed his arms and growled at the high summoner, “At this current moment in time, you’ve got my full attention. Because in all honesty? This is a real damn, _stupid_ , idea that y’got here, putting me here in range of him, so how about y’get t’the point, or else-”

“Damn stupid?” Kolminye’s voice held a definite edge now, sharp as a dagger and just as deadly.  “What is, in fact, _damn stupid_ is when two champions think they can interfere with the League’s official matches _and not receive any punishment,_ ” her fingers drummed the table once, the sound causing the two to involuntarily twitch. “What is _damn stupid_ is that we have the Judicator Kayle and her sister Morgana, who despite being timeless beings, are able to be coerced into cooperation easier than the two of _you._ ”

Twisted Fate crossed his arms over his chest but had the good sense to keep his mouth shut.  This was one of the League’s most powerful summoners, after all.  Anything he could do wouldn’t hold a candle to the sort of magic she could dish out.  

“However...” Kolminye steepled her elegant, pale fingers before her nose.  “Since this is the first time you two have done this, I will forgo punishment in favor of some...  Clarity.”  

Graves raised an eyebrow. What was she going on about? “Clarity? What’s not clear t’ya? I want him ruined and broken, he’s a ponce, and there ya go: Clarity,” his lips broke into a thin smile as he exaggerated his accent, “That right there is the genuin’ truth and nuthin’ but the whole truth, lil’ missy. Is there anythin’ else that you’ve missed, did y’know that we got these little fellas called Yordles—”

“Dammit, Graves,” Twisted Fate whirled on Graves, an unusual amount of anger on his typically-smooth face.  “We’re in trouble already and yer’ too busy mouthing off t’the _High Councilor_ to even realize it!” he took a step closer, and looked as if he might strike Graves out of anger.  “Are you going to get us both in worse trouble _again?_ ”

Kolminye smiled.  “Again?  But you’ve been in trouble since you had your little cat fight during the shipping rights match.  Unless...”

Graves raised his hands defensively. His tone changed to his usual gruff one, but he had a surprising air of honesty about him. “Hey now, I have no idea what he’s talking about. There was that one time, but that’s cause my shoulders were too big fer th’dress. He had to play that part, he knew that. And ‘sides, he got his bit o’ revenge fer that! He screwed _me_ over, I never dun’ anythin’ to him!”

Kolminye’s eyes flicked over to Twisted Fate, who had backed off and clamped his mouth shut.  The Card Master’s face was obscured by his hat, but the high summoner could see the tension in his body.  “I fear that you are apparently as unobservant as you are angry, Malcolm Graves,” she said.

“And you’ve got knickers the size of Grag...” Graves surprisingly stopped himself. He laughed and waggled a finger at her. “Clever girl, you are! Very clever! Right, so obviously it’s something _I_ don’t know, but good ol’ _Fate_ does. So I’m just gonna mosey on outta here, and leave you with him, alright? Alright,” he gave a quick two fingered salute to Kolminye as he made his way for the door.


	2. Chapter 2

Graves managed to take four steps before a woman appeared out of thin air directly in front of him.

He immediately turned paler than death.

The woman was not anyone Kolminye recognized, with no qualities that really stood out or marked her as “unique” in any way. Her long chestnut hair fell messily about her shoulders, the apron that she wore over her plain dark blue dress was stained from various types of booze, foods, and sauces, and her figure was perhaps a bit too thin for most people’s tastes. A regular person, more or less. However, her eyes and her smile had this almost supernatural warmth to them as she walked through Graves. He turned around and saw a younger him grab a mug of beer from the woman’s tray, laughing like a devil.

“Sir!”

Her voice was as clear as a bell, and sounded as gentle as one despite her yell.

“Ah dun’ worry about it.” He dug into his pocket and took out a handful of coins. He placed it on her tray and gave her a gentle push on her shoulder, “I was just gettin’ thirsty and impatient. My buddy’s late.”

The woman rolled her eyes, took the money off the tray and held it out  for young Graves to take back. “I would like that drink back, please. It’s not yours. I’ll bring you yours in a bit.”

“Yeah? And what’re you gonna do about it?” Graves snorted and grinned at her.

“ _Please_ give it back, sir?”

“Really? Y’think sayin’ _‘please’_ is gunna do anythin’?”

The woman nodded, “I do. Please, I need the drink back. The other customers are getting impatient.”

The two stared at one another, neither willing to back down just yet. Eventually Graves blinked and brought a hand up to his eyes, cursing under his breath. “Dangit! My eyes are dryin’ up!”

“You shouldn’t have stared so long, then.”

“How in th’ hells are you still starin’ at me?” Graves squinted up at her, his eyes starting to redden from the strain of keeping them open for so long.

The woman smiled and delicately took the mug of beer away from him, her fingers brushing across his. “You learn how to deal with rattlesnakes when you come from Piltover.”

“Rattlesnakes, eh? That’s what I am t’ya?”

“Absolutely. Mean, poisonous, they give you the worst stinkeye, but nothing wrong with them. Just don’t provoke them and they’re nicer than puppies.” The woman giggled at her little joke and placed the mug back on her tray. She placed the money on his table, then reached up and scratched the scruff that Graves had once called a beard. “Later, puppy.”

Young Graves watched the woman walk away, with a bounce in her step as she navigated the tables. She was genuinely happy doing what she was doing. He watched her hand out the mug of alcohol with a smile and an honest apology, and go on to do her work. He leaned over the bar and growled at the bartender, “What’s her name, buddy?”

“Hm? Who?”

“Her. What’s her name?”

The bartender looked up from cleaning his glass. He looked around until he found the woman he was being asked of. “Oh! That’s Kera! Nice girl, but don’t get on her bad side.”

“Eh? She’s got those fancy Ionian martial arts or somethin’?”

“Her? What? Nah, normally wouldn’t hurt a fly!” The bartender leaned over the counter, staring at the smiling woman. “Just...ah, let’s just say t’trust me, alright? If y’prefer your arms in their sockets, that is.”

Young Graves nodded. His hand had already slipped behind the bartender and he had already relieved the gentleman of a a couple of loose coins from his back pocket. “Heh. Yeah. I get yer drift.”

He didn’t, not really, but there was no point in pushing the question any further. Graves was about to order a drink when he noticed something from the corner of his eye. An errant hand made its way over to the buttocks of Kera. His brow knitted, he grinded his teeth. He wasn’t here to cause trouble, oh no, not this time. He was here to wait for Fate to come around and meet with him, although he had technically walked away from where they were supposed to meet. Still, no reason to cause troubl—

“Sir!” Kera slapped the hand away from her rear. “That is beyond improper!”

“Oh come on!” The man laughed, mockingly shaking his hand. “You were the one that attacked me! I didn’t do nothin’!”

_‘I can gut ya, boy,’_ Graves snarled in his mind. _‘Not too sure how that pertains to his line o’ reasoning, but that voice is one annoying mother f—’_

Kera gave a quick curtsy to the man while saying, “I apologize for the slap, but you were about to be rude. Please, do not do that.”

The man got to his feet and as he did he staggered about, showing the effects of moderate intoxication. “Look, look...how about you apologize to me properly?”

She stared at him, waiting for him to finish his proposition.

“A kiss on th’cheek?”

Graves’ nostrils flared. He looked over at the bartender and asked, “Y’got a stool?”

“Yeah, plenty of ‘em,” the bartender affirmed while he took a quick glance at Graves. He was busy pouring a mug of beer, and had to point at one of the various bar stools with his chin. “They’re called bar stools, yer in a bar, you can assume that.”

“Nah, nah. Somethin’ smaller, like fer a table. Knee high?”

The bartender raised an eyebrow. Graves slapped the coins he had stolen from the man just moments before and motioned to him, “Come on, buddy. I just want a little ol’ stool, just to sit on. Got bad knees, y’know? I need a special seat fer m’knees.”

“Isn’t a smaller seat worse for your knees because of the added tension due to your  body weight being pressed down onto your joints compared to alleviating them of said weight via a higher seat or at least a seat that doesn’t force your legs to bend too much?”

Graves stared at the bartender, unable to contain his surprise at the man’s word choice. “Why the hell does a bartender know half the gibberish yer sayin’?”

“The missus has bad knees.”

“Fine, whatever, are ya gonna gimme the stool or-”

Graves was not able to finish his sentence due to a resounding slap that echoed throughout the bar. Kera had backhanded the man while her other hand vigorously rubbed at her lips. She spat on the ground and glared at him, “How dare you, sir!”

“Gnah! Mah nose!”

“I barely tapped you!”

The man got up, blood streaming from his nostrils. His six friends stood up at the same time he did, all glaring at her. The drunkard`s hand moved back, his fists slowly curling down into a fist.

_‘Right. #@$! it.’_

An entire chair flew through the air, struck the man’s face and made him spin from the impact. The chair ricocheted from the force and hurtled to a seemingly random direction. Its trajectory ended when it collided with the frosted iron mug of ale of a tall, burly man making his way towards the group as quiet as death itself.

“You spilled my drink,” he growled, the beer froth flowing over his calloused knuckles.

_‘Calloused knuckles? Is that even possible?’_

The bear of a man crushed the metal mug with one hand and glared at the troublemakers. With heavy footsteps that rumbled like the knell of funerary bells, he covered the last bit of distance between them.

“Wait, he threw the chair!”

“And you were messin’ with Kera,” the bear of a man growled, his speech slow but every word pronounced flawlessly. He reached down and picked the fallen womanizer off the ground, then promptly heaved him out the window. Shattered glass fell about, and a slight groan was the only sign that the thrown man was still alive.

Three of the drunkard’s friends went for the thrower while the other three charged straight at Graves, who was smiling at them.

The first unlucky one was in perfect range for Graves to perform a nose shattering headbutt, instantly knocking the man out. The next one that attacked the young Outlaw missed Graves with his drunken haymaker, and instead punched the bartender who was staring with his jaw agape at what was happening. Rather than being laid out for the count, the bartender got back up from the floor with a loaded shotgun in hand. With a solid click of the barrel, the bartender took aim and fired at the man, unloading a barrage of rock salt into his chest.

Graves laughed, this was more his scene. He looked at the bartender and gave him a thumbs up as he commented, “Nice shot, bud—”

A bottle crashed down on the back of Graves’ head, the glass shattering the moment it made contact. He turned around, and despite the blood the flowed from the wound, was more angry than injured. Graves glared at his attacker with a murderous glint in his eye. “Y’dun goofed, boy.”

His hand shot out and wrapped around his aggressor’s neck. Graves pulled his free hand back, curled it into a fist, and started to fire it repeatedly into the poor man’s face. Blood splattered about messily, teeth flew out by the handful, it was a relentless assault in an obviously one sided fight.

A soft hand grabbed Graves’ shoulder and tugged him. “Sir! He’s had enough!”

“Not yet he ain’t.”

“Sir—”

Kera pushed past Graves, tray in hand, and slammed it into the face of a unknown, fourth man who had a knife in hand. He reeled back in pain, grabbing at his face and stumbling into the large bear of a man from before, who now breathed heavily down his neck. The man-bear grabbed the hand holding the knife, raised the weapon up to his mouth, and promptly bit the blade in half. He spat it out and dragged the poor fellow outside with him.

Kera let out a sigh of relief and looked at Graves pleadingly. “Please, let Bojack take care of them. You’re better than them. Don’t do it.”

Graves stopped. He thought about what she said, and frankly, he disagreed with her. But hell, why disappoint her? He released his quarry and rubbed the back of his head roughly. “Eh, if y-” He winced once he remembered that he had a large gash in his head. “Gah! Friggin’ frackin’ son of a monkey wh—”

“No!” Kera pressed a finger to his mouth. “I will not tolerate foul language in this establishment! Y’hear?”

“...Yes ma’am.”

“Good. Now stay still and let me stitch that up for you, sir.”

Graves watched her walk towards the bar and rummage underneath it. He took this opportunity to look over at the bartender and shrug half-apologetically, “So...  Yeah, sorry about th’ mess, but in my defense—”

“Ah don’t worry about it. Bojack will get payment from them,” the bartender grinned sadistically. “Bojack gets payment from everyone. No one touches his little angel when he’s around.”

“His angel?” Graves chuckled and pointed out the door. “Him and her? Really? That seems...”

Kera popped out from under the counter, protesting loudly, “Bojack? No! He’s like my uncle!” She walked over, needle and string one hand and a pack of bandages in the other. She motioned to Graves to take a seat, which he did so reluctantly.

“Like yer dad? Meaning what?”

“Meaning...  Well, I was born on the streets. I don’t really have parents.”

The bartender was sweeping up some broken glass when he added more information. “She came here when she was six years old, Bojack took a likin’ to her, and she’s been here ever since.”

“...Is Bojack...yer brother or somethin’?”

“Nah, best customer.”

“Then why would—”

Graves’ eyes went wide the moment the needle was stuck into his flesh. He grunted and gave Kera a dirty look. She bowed her head and apologized in an honest tone, “Sorry, sir.”

“Nah nah, don’t worry. Just be more careful. I’m a lot more tender than y’think.”

“You’re already a puppy, how much more tender can y’get?”

Graves burst out in a fit of laughter. He scratched at the side of his face, “Man, wait till Twisty hears of this.”

“Twisty? Who’s Twisty?”

“Malcolm? Malcolm!” Fate’s voice could be heard from outside. He sounded beyond irritated. “Dammit Malcolm! You had one job! One! Stay outside and watch the damn horses! But nooo, let them potentially get stolen and have a drink instead! My guess is you’re probably in here. Let’s see if I’m right!”

“And that there would be Twisty.”

Twisted Fate looked around the corner and threw his hands up. His hat was tipped back enough to reveal his expression of anger, shock, and confusion as to how this could happen. “Oh  look, I’m a psychic! I used my wizard powers to guess! What’s the scene that I come upon? Some...  Thing that looks like a man outside is slapping some ijits fer cash, with broken glass everywhere, one guy’s face looks like he was smacked by a chair then by a chargin’ wagon, let’s skip over the unconscious stooges in here because you, Malcolm, are the star here! You’re in here, being bandaged up by...!” Fate blinked as he made eye contact with Kera.

His anger instantly dissipated, and he smiled at her. Fate took his hat off and made a wide sweeping motion with his leg as he gave her a polite bow, “Why, hello there ma’am. Sorry you have to see me as flustered as I am, I didn’t mean to disturb you. My most sincere apologies.”

Graves rolled his eyes and chuckled to himself. Typical Fate, every time a woman grabbed his attention for a second, the charm started to pour out. And if charm were water, then he’d be able to fill an ocean with it. The Outlaw rested his cheek on his knuckles, happy by the fact that his buddy would now be too busy flirting to yell at him for now, which would more or less dispel the majority of his anger.

“You didn’t disturb me, sir.” She smiled back at him, a light blush in her cheeks, “But thank you.”

Kera finished the final stitches, patted the back of Graves’ head with the bandages to clean up the rest of the blood and stepped away. “There ya go, puppy.”

“Th’ name’s Malcolm. Malcolm Graves.” He got up and rubbed the back of his head. He brought his fingers in front of him, stared at the speckles of blood and shrugged, “Right, now that I’m done with the bleedin’, let’s get goin’, Fate.”

Twisted Fate gave Kera a wink while replying, “Of course, _puppy_. Let’s come back here afterwards, eh? Gotta help pay for some of the damages that you gone and done.”

“I wholeheartedly agree, Twisty.”

The two men walked away, laughing all the while. Fate looked back and gave Kera one more smile before they turned around the corner, where Graves grabbed him by the neck. “Call me puppy again and I’ll friggin’ strangle ya, got it?”

“You let her call you that.”

“Can you say no to those eyes? Come on, man! Besides, she looks like she knows how to have a bit of...Hm...” He stopped, and thought about what he was about to say.

“A bit of...what?” Twisted Fate sighed. “Does she know how to keep a bit of money in her pocket? A bit of fun? A bit of knowledge in regards to how people should stay in place and not frickin’ wander ‘round like a two year old?”

Graves shrugged and rubbed the back of his head ashamedly. “Nah, nah, nothin’ like that. She looks like she’s a good one t’talk to. We really should come back here after the job.”

“Malcolm, I was just havin’ some fun. We’re not-”

“Well guess what? Y’said we are, and we are. Drinks here, after the job, on me. Got it?”

The scene faded as quickly as the first had come and gave way to the darkened room once again.  Kolminye tugged along the magical tethers that anchored her in the portion of their memories that contained Kera and turned her spell to examine their current state; Twisted Fate was tense and obviously displeased with what was taking place, but Graves...  The Outlaw exuded a mix of shock, anger and murderous intent as he fixed his eyes on her.  It seemed that he still had a lot to learn about League authority, then.  At least Twisted Fate knew his place by now.

Kolminye gave Graves her most contemptuous smirk and threw the room into the next memory.


	3. Chapter 3

A younger Graves watched as Twisted Fate approached Kera and presented her with a hidden bunch of flowers.  The two had been a couple for several years now.  He scolded himself for not realizing that it would be inevitable; Twisted Fate just had that subtle charm about him that a lot of women found irresistible, and Kera was no different in this case.  Not that Graves really cared, it was more annoying than anything else since he needed Fate to keep his head straight with the sort of work they did.

Graves rolled his eyes as he walked into the bar; apparently Fate had a big announcement and he was expected to attend, being his partner and all. He made his way over to Bojack, who had come to respect Graves and his rough demeanor. A frosty mug was already in hand and on the table, waiting for Graves to take hold of it. Upon seeing Fate and Kera walk in, arm in arm, Bojack growled at them. It had become ritual long ago rather than an actual threat, but Graves couldn't help but feel a slight chill every time he heard it.

Kera’s crystal laugh filled the room as she seemingly hopped over to Bojack. Wrapping her arms around his thick neck, she gave him a hug as she said, “Now Bojack, it’s alright, it’s just Twisty and Puppy.”

“Hrn...” Bojack glared at Twisted Fate, waiting for his tribute. As was now customary Fate would present Bojack with a bottle of fine liquor, which the man-bear would take with a nod of approval at the conman’s choice in drink.

This time Bojack’s eyes went wide as he examined the label. This was a very, very expensive bottle of Bilgewater Rum: Gangplank’s very own brand of _‘Black Pearl Rum’_. Even a whiff of this rum was said to intoxicate the faint hearted, and only the strongest of men could even —quite literally—chew through this thick drink. Bojack poured a few shots into Graves’ beer and saved the rest of the bottle for himself.

Graves looked at his drink and grunted at the sight. “Now how in th’hell am I gonna drink this, Bojack?”

“What’s wrong, puppy?” Kera teased. “Is a little alcohol too much for my big, strong man?”

Malcolm raised an eyebrow and held the drink out to her. “Go ‘head, have a sip, Missus Fate, put yer money where yer mouth is, darlin’.”

Kera grinned as she took the mug from Graves. She said in a coy tone, “Well, maybe not yet, but someday soon I hope.”

The poor outlaw had just lit his cigar and was puffing for smoke when he heard that. He took too deep a breath at the remark and inhaled the smoke, which made him sputter and choke.

Kera took a long draught from the mug and placed it, empty, back in front of Graves while Twisted Fate laughed at the sight of his choking and sputtering partner in crime.

“C’mon, Malcolm! It ain’t that bad of a cigar! I bought you the premium one! In fact...” Fate twisted his wrist about several times, another cigar appearing with each flick. The bartender reached over and grabbed himself one while Bojack settled on having three in his mouth at once. Fate took the time to light each and every one of them as he spoke, “Well, the point of all this, y’see, as you may have noticed that me and Kera here, have been gettin’ awfully comfortable lately.”

The woman smiled. Graves’ darkened. He lifted the mug up, his eyes hiding his true feelings while using the circumference of the mug to hide the rest of his features.

“Quite comfortable, if I can add,” Kera giggled.

“So, after this latest heist that me and ol’ Malcolm pulled, I thought...” Fate clicked his teeth, thinking on how to phrase himself. “Well, I thought, wouldn’t it be nice to have a place t’come back to?”

Graves placed the mug on the table and pointed at Fate, “Y’got here, y’dope. We’ve been comin’ here for how many years now?”

“That ain’t what I mean, partner,” Twisted Fate admitted. “What I mean is, maybe...it’s time fer me t’settle down, y’know? What’s the point of always bein’ on the run when you got somethin’ t’come back to, right?” Saying this, he emphasized his point by grabbing Kera and plopping her on his lap.

She reacted by playfully slapping Fate’s cheek as she scowled at him. Her tone however revealed that she was joking despite what she said. “You cad, you brute, I’ll have Bobo and Puppy take care of a scallywag like you.”

_‘Just give me th’word, Kera, just give me th’gods damned word.’_

Graves’ eyes narrowed at Twisted Fate as he thought. He took a deep puff of his cigar, and promptly shoved his mug to his lips and took a deep drink. How could he think that of Fate? Fate was the closest thing to family he had. Yet... If this was going where he thought was going...

“So, after th’last heist...” Fate nodded to the bartender, who smiled back with a knowing look in his eye, then reached into his pocket and took out a piece of paper. He placed it on the table and explained, “I bought a deed t’ the Accursed Trinket here, thought maybe it’s time I settled down. With Kera, o’ course.”

It was just as Graves had figured.  He could see it now, Twisted Fate and Kera settled with a family in their nice little business, and Graves?  What would he do?  Did they expect him to settle down, too?  They were leaving him out in the cold, Graves would lose both of them and that would be that, no more heists, no more fun, not with the responsibilities that settling down entailed.

That future hadn't even come yet, and Graves was already sick of it.  Fine, he didn't need them anyway.  Enough of being shoved to the background while the lovebirds whistled their song, it was time to do something big.  Something that would restore that sense of pride he'd lost ever since Twisted Fate and Kera got together.

Later that night, Twisted Fate happened to walk in on Graves as he was planning a more personal heist and got a look at his research before there was a chance to hide it.  “What’re you lookin’ up Priggs for, Malcolm?” the blissful expression he'd been wearing when he walked in immediately dropped in favor of a look filled with hesitant worry.  

“Oh, jus’ tryin’ to find our next target is all,” Graves shrugged and let Twisted Fate get a closer look.

“Well we should stay away from Priggs,” Twisted Fate crossed his arms over his chest as he stared down at the scattered news clippings and copied documents.  “The guy's got more'n a few screws loose, and he doesn't give up huntin' down someone who wronged him.”

Graves let out a short laugh in reply.  "Yer actin' like we're a coupla amateurs fresh outta the alleys."

"And part of not _acting_ like an amateur is knowing when t'leave somethin' alone.  Th' last guy who messed with Priggs disappeared and hasn't been seen since, and he was a _senator_.  One of th' good ones."

“Yeah, that's cause the idiot was obvious about it and Priggs saw ‘im comin’ from a mile off.”  Graves rolled his eyes, he couldn't believe his own partner could be such a pansy when it came to this.  “If we do it he'll never be the wiser.”

“Malcolm, the guy is _nuts_. He’s willing to risk prison, _or worse_ , just to get back at someone, and he’s no pushover himself.  Y’know how _hard_ it is to hide th’ things he's done?  Everyone knows he did it but they're never gonna find a shred of proof.”

Graves let out an aggravated sigh and appeared to give in.  “Fine, _fine_.  We'll leave the squat pig be, are ya happy?” he swept up the papers and started to stack them.  “So how ‘bout we just leave Zaun altogether fer a while, then?  I hear Conqueror's Beach gets pretty nice ‘round this time of year, would be chock full of all them rich Demacian nobles, too.”  

Twisted Fate relaxed and let his hands fall to his sides.  “Yeah, would be nice t’ get a change of scenery after stayin’ here so long,” he leaned on the table and drummed his fingers on its hardwood surface.  “Kera could come along too, she’s never been to Demacia.”

“Yeah, could be one last big adventure before settlin’ down fer good,” Graves tried to ignore the sour taste in his mouth that came with the thought of Twisted Fate and Kera living together.  And hell, he knew for a fact that Twisted Fate wouldn't stop pursuing that special dream of his even after going legit, so why couldn't Graves have a little fun?  He wasn't about to let some safe little beach trip be one of his final heists, and Twisted Fate already believed that Graves wouldn't be gunning for Priggs...  “How ‘bout we leave in a month, give or take a few days?  That'll give us all plenty of time to get things sorted out here.”


	4. Chapter 4

“Aah, I see,” Kolminye leaned on one elbow as she watched the two men below.  “So you went behind your partner's back, against his recommendations, and messed with one of the most dangerous men in Zaun.”  Her grin had Graves glaring daggers at her from his place on the floor.  Twisted Fate was more withdrawn than ever, but she could feel his anger through the spell that connected her to his memories.  “Let’s add a little dramatic flair to this next series, shall we?”

Kolminye raised her right hand, and the pair below felt the spell shift with her movement, “Cause:”

The doors to a bar swung open. It was a ritzy establishment, usually only meant for Zaun’s upper crust and their special escorts. Graves walked in, a sensually sublime lady in each arm. The first woman had long scarlet hair, and wore a short but matching strapless dress which struggled desperately to hold her bust in place. The other wore a black one piece, with stiletto high heels and a short, black bob hair cut. She was covered with various pieces of eye catching jewelry, all pieces of obsidian set in silver.

Everyone within the establishment knew who these women were, and knew better than to say anything to either of them. Both women carried briefcases. Graves marched on through with them, looking every bit like the scruffy dog he was, his shirt dirtied, cigar held squarely with his lips and sending out puffs of smoke with every step he took.

There was the slam of a briefcase on top of the bar counter, the clicks of its locks, and the abundance of cash and coin that almost spilled out when it was opened. Malcolm grinned at the stunned bartender and asked, “I was told that I can get m’self and th’ladies the vee-ay-pee quarters. Now, I’m assumin’ that if I were t’ask you to send up drinks, food, cigars, hell, more women, y’wouldn’t oppose, would ya?”

The man stared at the cash, fully realizing that while Malcolm was not a usual, he certainly did have a lot of money on him at the moment. He would do his best to see that fixed by the end of the night.

“Certainly not, sir,” the bartender said with a smile.

Graves reached over, grabbed the first bottle of liquor he saw, slammed the briefcase closed and then dragged it off the countertop. He flicked his head towards the staircase, chirping at the women he was with. “C’mon girls, we got some business to... _’attend’_ to, in th’hot tub.”

He started to strut over to the staircase when he stopped mid step. A woman wearing blue caught the corner of his eye. With a grin, and a sharp whistle, he grabbed her attention. The woman looked over at him, and shuddered slightly. Graves looked sort of like a devil in this light, with his smile, and the smoke billowing from his mouth.

The danger was strangely enticing to her, and he knew this.

She walked over, leaving whatever poor man she was with, and saddled up next to Graves, pressing her breasts against the the scarlet woman’s back.

“Nice,” was all he had to say about the scene, and the four of them walked up the stairs. Graves took a swig from the bottle, took a puff of his cigar and let out a hearty laugh. This was the life.

* * *

**_“Effect:”_ **

It was a beautiful morning on Conqueror's Beach, which was already bustling as visitors arrived for a day in the sun.  Twisted Fate was just on his way out to the balcony of the suite that he and Kera were sharing, dressed in blue swim trunks and a loose green t-shirt, when he noticed someone seated at their table.  The man was squat, piggish, well-dressed, and he sat in the chair as if he owned the place, a sentiment that he was very used to feeling in his home city of Zaun.  He was flanked by two men in black suits who would have appeared unarmed to any normal person, but Twisted Fate immediately spotted that they carried concealed weapons.

Twisted Fate kept his face carefully blank, but the happy anticipation that filled his chest only a few moments before was instantly replaced with the sinking chill of fear and shock.  What the hell was Priggs doing here?  They made a point of staying away from him purely to avoid having this happen.  

Priggs's beady eyes settled on Twisted Fate as the conman stopped, and he nodded at the seat across from him.  “Care to take a seat, Mr. Fate?  I have some business to discuss with you.”

With two armed thugs in the room, there wasn't much else for Twisted Fate to do.  There was Kera to worry about, too.  She was be separated from any potential violence by a flimsy suite wall, and he didn't want to take any chances.  Twisted Fate coughed quietly to release some of the tension in his chest and put on his best relaxed smile, “To what do I owe the honor, Mr. Priggs?”

* * *

**_“Cause:”_ **

Graves was now shirtless, his pants draped across a towel rack along with two dresses and one woman’s one piece suit, as he shared the hot tub with two of the women. The briefcases rested behind him, just out of sight but by no means out of mind. A revolver rested on the one closest to him, in easy reach in case the bartender decided to try anything funny.

He leaned back, settling himself more comfortably in the steaming water as he closed his eyes. His lips moved up and down, puffing at the remnants of his stogie. His brow furrowed over some annoyance, and he was about to complain aloud when the cigar was plucked out of his mouth by soft fingers, followed by a feminine giggle. Graves’ eyes opened and he squinted at the perpetrator.

It was the redhead, course it was. They were always trying to push boundaries that weren’t meant to be pushed. Graves laughed and snapped his fingers, a crisp click echoing over the sound of the heated water bubbling from the jets. A man poked his head in and asked in an overly polite tone, “Sir? What do you need?”

“Gimme another cigar, yer finest. And three cigarellos fer the ladies.”

The man looked around, used to seeing nude women, but was mildly surprised to find that he might have been hard of counting. He could only count three people, Graves included, in the hot tub room.

“As you wish, sir. Enjoy yourself.”

His head disappeared, and Graves let out a relaxed sigh. From the water, the woman with the bob haircut burst up, gasping for air.

He was enjoying himself _most_ thoroughly.

* * *

**_“Effect:”_ **

“Take a guess.”

Nothing good, then.  Priggs wouldn't bother trying to toy with Twisted Fate otherwise.  The conman gave Priggs a genuinely clueless smile and spread his hands, palms up to show he had nothing to hide.  “Not a clue,” he leaned forward slightly and relaxed his hands.  “Though I would like to add that we've made a point to stay away from you and your business.”

“Really?” Priggs gave Twisted Fate a look of polite, if false, interest.  “Then I'm sure you'll be disappointed to hear that your partner did just that about a month ago,” he clasped his hands before him on the table.  “You must understand that I cannot just let this slide, since my reputation is on the line and all that.”

Twisted Fate's expression did not change; he needed to calculate what he wanted Priggs to see before he allowed that.  Inwardly, he reeled in shock at what he heard.  Graves had done it, he'd gone and messed with the beast after Fate _specifically_ warned him against it.  Now they were going to end up just like every enemy Priggs had stepped on and made disappear before, only this time no one could be bothered to care.  They were just two conmen, no one would miss them.  Any who noticed would probably laugh over it and say it served them right.

_Damn it._  They were in deep for this, and now Fate would have to find a way to resolve things before Kera got hurt.  “May I ask exactly what he did?” Twisted Fate was surprised at himself for sounding so calm, all things considered.

Priggs gave him a small, tense smile and barely managed to contain his anger over what he was about to tell Twisted Fate.  “Well, not only did he steal several million from me, he also decided to take out two of my _employees_ on _my_ money!”

The way Priggs said “employees” was enough to tell Twisted Fate exactly what he meant: Graves had taken a couple of Priggs's hired mistresses on his wild ride, probably the two prettiest girls of the bunch.  That went much farther than simply stealing.  It would be seen as a declaration of war by a man like Priggs, a war that Fate wanted no part in.  Rage bubbled behind Twisted Fate's calm exterior as he tried to think of a way out of this mess.  He still couldn't believe Graves would go and endanger them like that, do something so monumentally stupid to someone who was even worse a character than the two of them put together.

“ _Did he now?_ ” Fate allowed a small amount of tense anger to enter his voice, to show Priggs that he was seriously disappointed in what his partner had done.  “I hope you understand that I had nothing to do with it, this is my first time even hearing about it.”

The cold edge in Twisted Fate's voice was exactly what Priggs wanted to hear, and the man’s rage subsided somewhat at the assurance that he would potentially gain a valuable new ally very soon.  “Now I know you're on vacation and dealing with your partner will be an...  Unpleasant distraction at best, so I'm willing to cut you a deal on top of letting you go without any punishment whatsoever,” Priggs reached inside his jacket and retrieved a tan folder, which he set down on the table before him.

* * *

**_“Cause:”_ **

Graves stumbled out of the bar with five women in tow. One of the briefcases was notably absent, as was his shirt, but Graves didn’t seem to mind. He waved down a techarriage cab as he reached the curb and jumped in without a second thought. It was then that he noticed there would only be room for two more in the backseat. Graves looked behind him, attempted to find a way around the space issue, failed, then pointed at the two women who had initially come with him.

The group howled and shrieked like drunken lunatics as the carriage took off, leaving his three other floozies behind. They were fine with it, though, Graves thought to himself. He’d dealt with these kinds of women before and his motto for them was, “love ‘em and leave ‘em.”

Within the carriage, Graves kicked his feet up and started to muse aloud. “Now... Where shoul’w’go?” he said in slurred speech. “Hrm...les’she...les’she...Ah!” Graves slapped his knee and leaned over. “Driver! Take ush t’th’Golden Shmog!”

“The Golden _Smog_ , sir?”

“Yah!” Graves laughed. “Tha’sh wha’I’shaid! But firsht...how ‘bout we get ourshelves a...a drink? Eh?”

The women agreed by enthusiastically rubbing his exposed chest. With a hard boot to the driver’s seat, Graves hollered at him, “Git yer assh goin’!”

“Do you even have the fund—”

Graves ripped open the briefcase and threw a handful of cash at the driver, coins noisily clicking and ringing as they struck the back of his head.

“Now git!”

The driver took off, and Graves resettled himself after pelting the man with money. His eyes darted at the two women who were rubbing themselves on him, their bodies writhing like felines on catnip. “Yer handsh ain’bushy...” Another wolfish grin spread across his lips. “Get em bizzy.”

* * *

**_“Effect:”_ **

“At this point, you have only two options,” Priggs set his hands on either side of the folder as he regarded Twisted Fate.  “Go down with your partner and suffer as much as he will, or join me and get the chance at the thing you've been searching for,” he opened the file, which was filled with various documents and forms.  “I have here with me the papers necessary to enroll you in the procedure that may give you the ability to use magic.  You're still searching, aren't you?”

That was certainly interesting, but Fate wasn't near stupid enough to take all of what Priggs said as the truth.  He wouldn’t be surprised to find that the offer was a double-edged sword somewhere down the road, and he wasn't so eager to risk his life since he had Kera...  But still, _magic_...  This might be the best lead he'd gotten on acquiring it in quite a long time.

“Fate?”  The very woman he’d been thinking of just moments before walked into the room, clad in a fetching green bikini with a sheer cloth tied around her hips.  She’d picked up a slight tan in the time they'd spent in Demacia, and her face radiated with a constant content happiness.  Kera stopped short when she saw the stranger seated at their table, and the two smartly-dressed men standing behind him.  “Oh, who are our guests?” she was aware of what Twisted Fate and Graves did for a living, and the worst case scenario was never very far from her mind.

“Just a little business,” Twisted Fate gave Kera a reassuring smile, which she returned almost immediately.  “You go on ahead, I'll be out in a little while.”

Priggs appeared to ignore Kera until she left the room, at which point his eyes snapped back to Twisted Fate.  He smiled.  “That’s a fine woman you have there, Mr. Fate.  It would be a shame if something were to happen to her.”

* * *

**_“Cause:”_ **

The days seemed to blur into each other like the shapes of Zaun’s skyline on particularly smoggy days. The Golden Smog was one of the ritziest casino resorts in all of Zaun. Graves had rented himself a penthouse suite and spent nearly a week throwing his money away on gambling, cigars, and booze.

One scene had him hunched over at a Craps table with Priggs’ women on either side of him, along with a crowd that had gathered to watch the spectacle. A glazed look in his eyes showed how intoxicated he was, along with the visible strain of him trying to stand upright, teetering to and fro. A cry of enthusiasm rang out. A giant pile of chips was quickly raked to him and Graves made a feeble sweep at them. He completely missed the stack and fell over. No one moved, unsure how to react when Graves shot back to his feet and burst out in laughter.

The day blurred, it showed Graves back at his suite with a bottle of expensive Zaun vodka. The two women from before were now resting on the king sized bed while wearing the frilliest silk lingerie Graves had ever laid eyes on. Soft croons from them beckoned to the Outlaw like a siren song. He had been lost in thought, staring out the window and absentmindedly drinking. He remembered why he was here and wobbled over to the bed. Graves felt like the king for once.

For once, he was the winner.

The next few days showed him working the poker tables, no one able to catch on to his tactics or his cheating ways. That night he won big enough to fill his bathtub with bills and coins. He remembered reading an old comic once of a rich goose who swam in a pool full of money.

Besides, after a few shots of Neon Hexsinthe, brewed from a variety of fermented hallucinogenic herbs that were boiled by magic, anything sounded like a good idea. Unfortunately for Graves and his money, he assumed in his state that in order to swim in something, it would have to be wet or some sort of liquid to be able to swim in it at all. Though normally true, the thrashings of a drunken man in a bath full of wet money did not bode well for his funds.

The next day, green dye marked patches of skin he’d been unable to scrub clean, and he was dotted with a few coin-sized bruises and lumps on his face. It didn’t matter, he could win it all back easily.

On the seventh day the casino finally gave him the boot. He was far too disruptive, winning far too much money, and frankly they just couldn’t take his ego anymore either.

Graves scratched the side of his face, his vision still blurred. Where Priggs’ two women were, he didn’t really care. The conman staggered away from the Golden Smog casino and waved down a taxi. He thrust his hands into his pockets, slowly counting aloud how much money he had left. Enough to get him home. He’d just go, sleep it off, and then come back and get the winnings that they unrightfully “withheld” from him. It didn’t matter anyway, he got what he wanted. It was one hell of a week in his mind.

Both Kolminye and Twisted Fate noticed that at no point, save for the beginning of this entire escapade, had Graves been sober, and even now at its end he seemed to be blitzed out of his mind.

“Bes’h week ever,” he mumbled aloud.

* * *

**_“Effect:”_ **

It took nearly every ounce of Twisted Fate’s self control to keep himself from showing his fear.  Priggs was threatening Kera, and who knew what he would do to her if things went south...  He could certainly guess, and the thought was enough to make his stomach turn.

“I can see that it may take a while for you to make your decision,” Priggs slid the file over to Twisted Fate and got to his feet, which made him noticeably shorter than he had been while seated.  The fact would have been funny had the man not been threatening Kera just moments before.  “We’ll finish our conversation in a week once you’ve made your decision.  And don’t worry about a meeting place, I’ll find you.”

Priggs and his guards made their way to the door, and as he set his hand on the doorknob, the official turned back to Twisted Fate with an expression of false recollection.  “By the way, did you ever hear what happened to Selene Atwald and Eugenie Meric?”

“No...  I didn’t.”

“Well if you’re lucky,” Priggs gave Fate a small, wicked smile as he opened the door.  The expression gave him the look of a short, piggish demon.  “You never _will_ find out.”

The snap of the closing door made Twisted Fate flinch.  Selene and Eugenie...  They must’ve been the mistresses Graves “borrowed” for his little fun week.  Fate decided to look into what happened, though the foreboding pain in the pit of his stomach told him whatever there was to discover would not be pleasant in the least.

“Well, that was certainly enlightening,” Kolminye leaned back in her chair and observed the two champions.  Graves was red in the face with embarrassment and looked angry as usual, but Twisted Fate was downright livid.  It had been one thing to hear about what Graves had done from Priggs, but quite another to actually see for himself.  The Card Master took an aggressive step toward Graves, who actually seemed a bit dazed by what he'd seen, but Kolminye tossed them into another series of memories before he could throw a punch.

Moonlight poured in through the open curtains, painting the room stark black and white.  Twisted Fate sat on his side of the bed he shared with Kera, head in his hands as he agonized over what he was going to do.  Priggs’s punishment for the both of them would only be limited by the piggish little man's imagination once he got his hands on them, and there was no telling what he would do to Kera just to make Fate miserable.  He couldn’t bear to have anything so horrible happen to Kera, he couldn't let her pay for Graves's mistake.

_Dammit Malcolm, you just had to do it.  After I warned you not to and everything, you went and messed with the beast._

The deadline for his decision was coming up, and fast.  He would have to make up his mind within two days.  Twisted Fate let out a loud, frustrated sigh and lifted his head.  There was no way they would be able to outpace Priggs forever, not with the resources he had at his disposal, as well as his friends in dark places.  Priggs wouldn’t forget the insult Graves paid to him, and there was no way two mere conmen would be able to kill someone with so much influence in the underworld.  The pair would be blacklisted by many of their former contacts too, since no one was dumb enough to even consider messing with Priggs these days.  Well, almost no one.

Kera shifted where she lay behind Twisted Fate and let out a quiet sigh as she dreamed, the sound temporarily distracting Fate from his dark ponderings.  He turned to find her laying with her back to him, one shoulder bared to the pale moonlight and cool evening air.  Fate reached over and settled the sheets back on her shoulder, then turned back to the window.

Even a life on the run would be undesirable.  Constantly moving, changing their identities, living in fear every day as long as Priggs was still alive.  That wasn’t a life he wanted for Kera, she didn’t deserve to lead such a miserable existence.  But Priggs had seen her face.  If she returned home and they separated, Priggs would be on her within the month, and he would use her to get at Twisted Fate and Graves if they hadn’t been caught already.  And once they had been...

Twisted Fate shook his head, trying to dislodge the awful images that sprang into his mind, and combed his long hair back from his face with his fingers.  He was backed into a corner.  Either hand Graves over to Priggs, or condemn the three of them to an eventual torturous existence in one of Priggs’s secret prisons.  

Then there was that offer made by Priggs, the chance at magic...  If they were on the run there would be no time to pursue that goal, and any new lead might turn out to be a trap set by Priggs, now that the man knew Twisted Fate’s weakness in that respect.  Going against Priggs would end in ruin for Fate in more than one way, but here the man was, offering him a way out and a chance at his dream besides.  It was certainly an attractive bargain.

_Should I tell Malcolm...?_

The thought was shot down almost as quickly as it popped into Twisted Fate's head.  No, Graves had already betrayed Fate's trust by messing with Priggs in the first place, and taking the man’s two mistresses to boot.   _Why?_  Why did he have to spit in Priggs’s face on top of stealing from him?  There was no way he could trust Graves to do the right thing now, and Priggs would figure it out if Fate tipped his partner off.  If Graves disappeared, Priggs would come after Twisted Fate and Kera for letting him slip away.

At least he wouldn’t be leaving empty-handed if he gave Graves to Priggs.  While it was true that he didn't trust the official’s “gift” just yet, he would have to do some research to find out if working with Dr. Rath would be worthwhile.  If it was too dangerous he would have to turn it down, of course.  There was no way he would throw his life away on some slim hope when he had Kera there for him, and handing Graves over just meant he would be able to pursue other leads in the future if this didn’t work out.

_And Kera...  Should I tell her?_

The question lingered for a few moments as Twisted Fate mulled it over.  No, she would be devastated if she had to knowingly betray the man she regarded as a brother.  It would be hard enough when Graves was eventually taken away, she didn’t need to bear the burden of handing him over on top of that.  Fate would that weight alone, Kera didn’t need to dwell on it.  He just wanted her to be as happy as possible, despite what was going to happen.

Even though Graves had gotten them into deep trouble with this whole ordeal, it still hurt to do this to him.  After all, Graves was the closest thing Twisted Fate had to a brother these days, they’d been through so much together...

**Author's Note:**

> And here we start publishing another project! This one is a joint effort between myself and ViperOfGrand, hope you all enjoy!


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